


We are the Dennings

by blushthasmin



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Is anyone still alive on this fandom lol, OITNB - Freeform, OITNB S6, Orange Is The New Black - Freeform, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 23:38:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17212997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blushthasmin/pseuds/blushthasmin
Summary: A point of view account of Carol and Barb Denning, dating back from their childhood, teenage years leading to their times in prison. What secrets are there to uncover? And what was the ultimate drive to murder?





	We are the Dennings

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if anyone's even in the Dennings fandom anymore, but I wrote this on tumblr at the height of the Carol/Barb craze and thought I would continue it, I hope you all enjoy!

Barb 

I guess you could say I was the golden child. I was the darling daughter. The firstborn, the blessing. The first niece, granddaughter, the special one. No one could compare. Especially not that fucking Carol. Or even stupid, baby Debbie. In fact, she’s the reason I’m rotting here anyway. I’m currently in my fourth year of a long 25 year prison sentence. My eyelash curlers have been replaced with commissary makeup that makes me break out. I’m a far cry from who I was. 

Oh yeah. I’m Barb. Let me take you back. It’s the year 1967. My younger sister, Carol, was a few months old. It was also my third birthday. I wanted to enjoy my damn day, and she was crying with all her might. She wanted to upstage me, I could tell. I knew right from then that I hated her. She drowned out everyone singing ‘happy birthday’ to me. 

She’s done it ever since. I don’t know if I had a violent nature until she was born, but mom and dad thought the world of me. I can’t actually remember one violent thought before then. I guess it really is Carol’s fault. The whole trail. I wouldn’t feel the need to fake everything if it wasn’t for her. Her and Debbie. But Debbie’s a whole different kettle of fish. 

Back to my birthday – Carol finally quietened down the moment mom told me I had to go to bed. Typical, huh? I could barely enjoy my day without her shrieking constantly. About half an hour after I’d been put to bed and I knew Carol was asleep, I snuck into her room. The urge to smother her with a pillow was all too tempting. It felt good, knowing the option was there. God, I was so close to doing it, and I still wish I had to this day. But I knew I couldn’t. The thing that makes me and Carol so different is that I can be subtle when I need to. Instead I stood over her crib and wished nothing but death upon her. I told her she was a mistake, an accident, that she should never have been born. 

Carol woke up at the sound of my voice, and the shock made her start crying again. Our mom came rushing in. “Oh, I could hear Carol starting to cry so I was going to give her my bear to cuddle”, I lied through my teeth. I’ve always been a skilled liar. Mom believed me anyway. I was right anyway, Carol was nothing but a mistake. 

 

Carol 

In every family of more than one kid, there’s always the odd one out, one that was never listened to, or given any attention, and especially when you’re the middle child, you’re never anything special. I guess that was me. They’d already had Barb, they’d been through the whole ‘teach her to walk and talk’ shit. They didn’t need to do it again. Then they had Debbie and she was like their ‘surprise’ instead of an inconvenience like me. Barb always tells me I’m an accident or I’m adopted because I’m such a psycho. I feel nothing for anyone. If you want my love, or me to give you anything genuine, you have to show me you’re not going to walk away. 

Maybe my parents didn’t think I’d amount to much anyway. They’d always treated me differently, and I’d grown up wondering why I got chucked to the bottom of the pile every time. Mom never hugged me once. Dad never played games with me. They did with Barb though, and Debbie. They don’t even seem too shocked that I’m here. In prison. Yet with that fucking Barbie doll, they visit her every chance they get, acting appalled at every false account she gives of how dreadful it is here. Honestly, her only deprivation is that she doesn’t get dick anymore! She’s a stupid, shallow bitch. 

Prison isn’t so bad, usually. In my first week, someone tried to shiv me because Barb twisted our crime into it being way worse from my side. But since then, I’ve made my presence felt to everyone. I love being feared. I have walls up all the time, but I prefer it that way. Hurt them before they hurt you. 

I’m Carol. The ‘scapegoat’. I feel like I was born all wrong sometimes, or something went wrong with my brain while I was still swimming around the womb. I can’t think of one occasion where I’ve felt peace of mind. It’s like my brain is going full speed every second of the day. 

It’s like my heart doesn’t exist, or if it does, it’s made out of coal. Y’know how when you’re a kid and you get told you’d get coal for Christmas if you’re bad? Well that’s what my life has felt like. In fact, every birthday and Christmas I may as well have gotten coal. My parents thought they were doing me a favour giving me Barb’s old junk every year when she was done with it. But it hurt. So I raged. I would have rather them think I was having a temper tantrum than Barb laugh at me for acting like a baby. 

I act before I think, every single time. Probably why I’m here. It’s like a ball of fire is inside me all the time. It’s always anger, anger, anger. If I want to cry, I can’t. I shout instead. I throw things. I hurt people. It’s who I am. But at least I’m damn honest about it.


End file.
